#and it is something that haunts Lawrence.

[aforgottenthing]

Do you think Lawrence took up smoking after the bathroom trap?

[motherdanger]

another installment in the "what if amanda survived but lynn didnt" au only accessible in my head. thank you

[botanicallyinclinednerd]

I really enjoy utilizing ghosts to make things interesting. I am very aware of what happens to Kutner and that coupled with the fact House hallucinates both Amber and Kutner AND Kutner is superstitious (and seems like he'd believe in ghosts) while House very much is NOT makes me want to do something VERY funny (imo)

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

I liked your gally headcannon <3

could i request some headcannons for a reader he meets after the glade like they work for Lawrence and stuff? Thank uu

meeting gally in the last city would include

masterlist

ahhh thank you so much! ofc, i love making relationship headcanons <3 reader is a little softie. i'm sorry!! i love writing soft readers too much. suggestive themes.

before relationship

you two first met in an altercation with lawrence's men upon entering the last city's outskirts. he had suggested taking you back to lawrence to join his cause.

it took a while for him to talk to you. he didn't want to leave a bad impression, especially given his track record.

plus, he thought you were really pretty which to him, was intimidating.

he was surprised by how kindly you treated him and how warm the smiles you gave were. such pure-heartedness was a rarity in this world.

you started spending a lot of time together. he would train you in combat; you'd take watch together, and even sometimes talk on the roof at night.

people would definitely notice the connection.

the other men would blatantly tease him about liking you in front of you.

his attraction to you would reach its peak whenever you used a gun. something about a gun and girl really got him going.

there would be moments where you two flirted and then became all flustered when you realised what you were doing.

he would start distancing himself.

he'd never feel worthy of having you in his life. his past would always haunt him.

one night, he caved and told you everything he had done.

you kissed him for the first time and told him he was the strongest person you had ever met.

that was when he knew he had fallen in love with you.

during relationship

pet names would include baby, angel, beautiful, and short-stuff.

his sense of humour used to be self-deprecating, but your constant reassurance and loving words changed that.

now he'd do anything, say anything, to make you laugh or smile. he loved your smile. your laugh even more so.

he would be extremely protective over you. your gentle nature would make you more vulnerable, something he felt he needed to protect.

especially during missions and supply runs.

"don't leave my side, alright?"

"please be careful."

"i don't want you in any danger. i cant lose you too."

you'd always protect each other in combat, even though he's like, way taller than you.

sometimes he needed a little protection though, given the fact that he only had one good lung which affected his fighting capabilities.

sometimes you would sit on his lap during car rides with his arms wrapped around you as your seatbelt.

he wouldn't care about anyone watching. he liked having everyone know you chose him of all people.

he'd tease you about your height all the time. expect a joke at least once a day.

would love hugging you from behind, just enveloping your body with his.

kisses would be so tender. he'd bend down and cup your jaw so delicately while pulling you in by the waist.

forehead kisses, temple kisses, basically just kisses all around. not much in public though, that was something he liked keeping private.

when the relationship progressed, he'd still hold out on you. but gentle wasn't all that you were.

"touch me, gally".

and he would. he would brush his fingers along your jaw, up and down your arms, and hold the side of your neck as he kissed you.

"no," you'd whispered. "gally... be rough with me"

at first, he would be hesitant. but once he saw your insistence, he'd pick you up and plant you on a table, allowing his old rougher self to take over as he kissed you, touched you, and well...

that would be how you first sleep together.

he could lift you up like you weigh absolutely nothing. you're basically like a rag-doll to him. in an innocent way. most of the time ;)

his hands are so big that they completely cover the sides of your head.

you would wear his hoodies and sweatshirts to bed. he'd love how big they were on you.

people would hold parties in the ruins of old buildings. there'd be music, bonfires, and alcohol.

gally wouldn't be able to help himself. you'd just look so beautiful in the firelight, he'd bring you somewhere secluded and take you against a wall.

these were the only times he was harsh with you and you loved it—the contrast between having someone who was lovingly gentle and sinfully rough was exhilarating.

when thomas and the others came to the last city, they were genuinely shocked by how he managed to score you.

thomas especially.

"you know about the things he's done, right?"

you instantly come to his defence.

"i know. i also know that people can change. he's not the same person you knew. he's brave and strong and the most caring man i've ever met."

gally's a bit of a snoop, so of course he 'accidentally' eavesdropped on your conversation.

"did you really mean all that? what you said to thomas."

"of course i did. i love you, you big idiot."

"i love you too... little idiot."

damn this was kinda long. my bad.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Leon Day

Summary: The reader makes Dean breakfast on Leon Day and explains what the day is. While she has some fun things planned, Dean shares some of his own future plans with her...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,000ish

Warnings: language, 15x20 finale spoiler (fic takes place post 15x20 though)

A/N: Enjoy!

_______

“Y/N,” said Dean, scratching his head when he came into the kitchen for breakfast. “I haven’t been in a coma lately right?”

“No...why would you ask that?” you said. Dean pointed behind him to the string lights hanging in the hall, colorful lights twinkling along the wall. “Oh that? It’s Leon day.”

“Who’s Leon?” he asked, padding over to his usual stool, yawning and curling into himself. You ruffled his hair and slid a cup of coffee in front of him.

“It’s June 25th. Exactly six months from Christmas,” you said.

“Is it Leon’s birthday?” he asked. “Whoever he is?”

“No silly,” you said, returning your attention to making pancakes.

“Can I have chocolate chips?” he asked. “Please.”

“Uh we’re out of chips but blueberries instead?” you asked, holding up the package.

“That’s fine,” he said, spinning in his seat. “So...lights?”

“Well Leon is Noel backwards and since it’s six months from Christmas it’s kinda like a mini-Christmas day,” you said.

“Never heard of it.”

“Well most people have never heard of a devil’s trap but that’s a thing that exists too,” you said. He hummed and sipped on his coffee, crossing his legs on his seat. He looked younger like that and you smiled, hoping he was in a good mood this morning. “I only decorated a little bit.”

“So it’s like Christmas? I didn’t get you any presents,” he said.

“We don’t have to do presents. It’s more about, doing things together, making cookies, having a nice dinner together. Maybe take a day off from hunting,” you said. You put your back to him and finished with his pancakes, dropping some fresh blueberries on top for him when you were all done. You hummed and slid the plate in front of him, giving him a fork and knife along with a glass of water.

“I uh, actually wanted to talk to you about hunting. Sam and I saw something online,” he said. You sighed and poured more batter into the pan.

“A new case?” you asked, forcing a smile into your voice.

“This big house in Lawrence. Not obnoxiously big but it’s big, big enough for like eight people I’d say,” he said.

“Is it haunted?” you said, watching the batter bubble and begin cooking.

“It’s for sale. We were thinking of buying it. He was gonna talk to Eileen and I said I’d talk to you about it.”

“About…”

“Buying it,” said Dean. You turned and frowned at him, Dean shoveling his second pancake into his mouth. “What?”

“First off, chew. Second, why would you guys buy a house? You’re not suddenly going to become the Property Brothers are you?”

“No silly. The house would be for us. Obviously we’d ward the shit out of it but yeah, house. What do you think?” 

“Why would we get a house?” you asked. Dean rolled his eyes and you put the rest of the pancakes on a plate, bringing them over and taking a seat beside him. “Like, is there something wrong with the bunker?”

“Nothing wrong with her. But Jack and Cas are up working in heaven and the world’s not so scary...and I did have a house in heaven when I was there.”

“You still haven’t told me about whatever space time continuum crap you broke in order to be back from the dead.”

“Jack just said it was alright so I’m back and considering you weren’t up in Heaven like we all thought you were, we all decided on a do over. I missed you and I liked that house but I want you in that house with me.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying...let’s go live in a house and maybe I hunt every once in a while, maybe I run point for some other hunters, if we decide to go that route. Maybe I do something different for work. But I’m also saying, I like waking up and having pancakes and having random holidays and being happy and I can decide to do what I want, for me. I want a warm happy house with my family. You can decorate it for whatever holidays you want if I can have that.”

“We can have that,” you said quietly. You reached over and he already was meeting you there, hugging you with a happy sigh. “You’re really ready to leave all this behind?”

“We can always come visit this place. But I think our family should grow up the way we didn’t get to. We deserve that at the very least.”

“And you said you didn’t get any presents,” you said, holding him tight.

“I may have known you were planning this,” he teased. “I waited a little longer to share the news than I was hoping to but I figured you wouldn’t mind your Leon day present.”

“No, no I don’t,” you said. He kissed you and grinned before he hopped up. He dug around in the pantry and pulled out a bag of peppermint white chocolate chips. “Well now you’re just bragging.”

“I heard we were making cookies,” he said, dropping them on the counter. “Later though. After my yummy breakfast.”

“After your breakfast,” you said, kissing his cheek. “Love you. Best mini Christmas ever.”

“Love you too sweetheart. This Christmas you’ll have a whole house to decorate. Think you can handle that?”

“Absolutely. As long as I get some help?”

“Yeah I think you can swing that,” he said. He kissed your temple and hummed, throwing an arm over your shoulder. “So where’s my present in all this? I mean, I got a house and like a life changing decision for you and I got pancakes?”

“You fucking love pancakes,” you said.

“Guilty as charged,” he said. 

“I’ll make you them every single day if you want, how’s that sound?”

“Every single day?” he hummed.

“For the next week.” He chuckled and nodded. “Love you.”

“Love you back Dean.”

___________

[finalgrllfriend]

Thinking about Saw 3D and how at the end Lawrence is the one to close the door on the bathroom.

Do you think for a second after closing it he heard Adam screaming his name?

Did the thought of doing exactly what was done to Adam ever cross his mind as he spat out “Game Over”?

Do you think he could still hear the echos of someone else he doomed to rot there, following him down the hallway?

Do you think, something inside him, something instinctual begged him to turn back?

What if he had an episode, hearing the dead man’s screams? Or better yet, that bathroom and hallway are haunted by the man he left behind?

In his afterlife, do you think Adam still screams? Does he bang on the bathroom door? Run down the hallways? Does he scrape at the tub trying to find his key? Maybe he runs the faucets, or shakes the pipes?

Or does he just sit in his corner and weep?

[mssorceressupreme]

Hi! I absolutely adore your writing (also going through a maze runner hyper fixation🤭).

Would you be able to do a fic where reader was thought to have died when they originally escaped the maze but reader got out with Gally. Then Minho and reader reunite when they see Gally again (if this makes any sense).

Thank you!! 🫶🏻

hiii aw thank you love that means a lot 💓💓 omg yesss this is such a lovely prompt!! I love reunions lol especially when one s/o was thought to be dead 😝

——

Into Your Arms

Pairing: Minho x Reader

Summary: the gladers thought you were dead (you were shot instead of chuck), but what happens when you’re reunited at last. Your bond with Minho proves unbreakable as you face the future together.

Warnings: mild violence, mentions of bullet scars

——

You sat in the dimly lit room of your shared safe house in the Last City, your fingers tracing an old scar on your stomach.

It was a constant reminder of the day you had narrowly escaped death, a brutal memento left by a bullet from Gally, who wasn’t in the best state of mind a year back.

The pain of that moment, both physical and emotional, had nearly broken you. Yet, here you were, alive and determined, haunted by thoughts of your friends from the glade. Every night, you wondered if they had survived, if they were out there somewhere, fighting the same fight. If Minho was doing alright.

The last memory you had of your boyfriend was him shedding tears as he cradled you in his arms, before you passed out from the loss of blood. That was when they presumed you were dead. Everything after that was a blur, well, until Lawrence and his crew rescued you and Gally.

A knock on the door broke your reverie. Gally stepped in, his expression serious but tinged with something else—hope. “We spotted something, or rather, some people, and we’re bringing them in soon. You might want to be there when we arrive back.” What did he mean by that?

Though Gally was the person who gave you that scar, you forgave him for it. The both of you looked past that and decided to start fresh when Lawrence brought the two of you to his army. Gally even became a brother figure to you, constantly on the lookout to keep you safe.

Moments later, they returned.

Your heart pounded as you waited for their vans to reveal the mystery guests inside.

No shucking way.

The sight that greeted you made you gasp. As soon as the doors slid open, familiar faces emerged. Your gladers. Thomas, Newt, Frypan—they were all here. Relief and joy surged through you, but a sharp pang of anxiety struck you when you didn’t see Minho.

You stood there blending in with the crowd, not knowing what to say or do.

“Hey Greenie.” Gally greeted Thomas, to which he replied by striking Gally’s jaw. Gasps were heard and our soldiers cocked their guns, aiming at Thomas.

“Woah woah woah—stop, stop!” Newt rushed to the front, preventing Thomas from striking Gally once more.

“He killed Y/N…” Thomas spat, “do you have any idea what that did to Minho!”

“I know, I remember. I was there…but I also remember that he was stung and out of his mind.” Newt defended Gally, hoping to calm Thomas down before a fight escalated.

“I’m actually right here...” You said aloud, pushing past the crowd and making your way to the front. You slowly helped Gally up and stood face-to-face with your fellow gladers.

“Y/N??” They gasped in unison. Thomas and Newt rushed to hug you, Fry followed not long after.

“It’s so good to see you again.” Thomas softly said, squeezing you, “He would be elated to know.” You immediately knew who he was referring to. But where was he?

“H-how?! How is this possible? We watched you die. Both of you.” Newt questioned, glancing from Gally to you.

“No, you left us to die.” Gally retorted, “We were lucky Lawrence found us when he did, if not Y/N wouldn’t have made it.”

“What’re you guys doing here anyway?” You inquired, “and where’s—” Before you even finished your question, Newt read your mind.

“Minho. WCKD has him here, we’re looking for a way in.”

Your heart sank, he was here the whole time and you didn’t know?! “Let’s get him then! Gally?”

Gally nodded, “I can help with that. Follow me.”

——

The hours that followed were a blur of planning and preparation. You donned WCKD soldier suits, your faces hidden behind masks. Each step you guys took inside the compound was a step closer to Minho, but also a step deeper into danger.

The tension was thick enough to cut through it with a knife, every sound amplified, every shadow a potential threat.

As you fought your way through the facility, the adrenaline was mixed with fear. You were fighting to save someone you thought you’d lost forever.

“We’ll wait here.” Gally and you waited outside a tall modern building, WCKD’s headquarters, squatting behind a large pillar.

“Are you sure they’re doing alright inside? Shouldn’t we go in to help them?” I demanded, “I need to know that Minho and the others are safe.”

“Trust me, they’ll find a way out of that building.” As though Gally had predicted the future, a glass window on one of the higher floors smashed, and out jumped three figures.

“That’s our cue!” Gally hastened, both of you got in position and followed the other “WCKD soldiers” as they approached the trio.

“Freeze! Put your hands in the air!” One of them commanded pointing guns at your boys, “Uh uh uh!” He continued, when Thomas reached for the gun in his leg strap.

Gally and you acted quickly, shooting them, one by one the soldiers passed out.

The trio stood there dumbfounded, and finally sighed with relief when Gally revealed his mask first.

“Gally?” Minho’s jaw dropped.

“Minho.”

You followed, revealing yourself next.

Minho froze, eyeing you up and down. He shook his head, tears welled up in his eyes, “Y/N?….”

You nodded, wasting no time running up to him and embracing him. “Minho!” You breathed, your eyes filling with tears, body trembling with relief and emotion.

He held you tightly, his breath ragged in your ear, “You’re alive…?!?” He whispered, disbelief and relief mingling in his voice, “All this time…baby, I thought you were dead.“

You pulled back slightly, tears streaming down your face, and punched him playfully on the shoulder, “You were here all this time, and I didn’t know?”

Minho’s eyes were wide with emotion, his voice cracking. “I thought I lost you forever when you got shot in the glade…by him,” He glared at Gally but couldn’t find a reason to be angry now that you were alive, “I mourned you every day.”

Your heart broke at the raw pain in his voice. You reached up, cupping his face in your hands. “I’m here now, Minho. I’m here.”

He hugged you again, tighter this time, as if afraid you might disappear. “Gally took me under his wing,” you explained softly, feeling Minho tense at the mention of Gally.

Minho’s eyes flickered over to Gally, anger flaring briefly, “You shot her,” he said, his voice hard.

Gally raised his hands defensively, “I was stung and truly didn’t mean to—”

“Thank you.” Minho’s responsed baffled Gally, he was sincere, “Thank you for taking care of her.” Once Minho saw that you were safe and well, forgiving Gally was easier.

Minho’s anger dissipated as quickly as it had flared. He sighed, his shoulders relaxing, “I’m just glad you’re okay.” He said, looking back at you, “that’s all that matters now.”

——

Timeskip to Safe Haven (and Newt survives cause I want him too 😩):

After the festivities of celebrating your first day at the safe haven, Minho guided you to a quiet corner, his eyes never leaving you while the others continued socialising.

“Let me see your wound,” he said gently.

You lifted your shirt slightly, revealing an old scar. Minho’s fingers traced the mark, his eyes filled with sorrow. “I never should’ve left you at the glade,” he whispered, “I should’ve protected you then.”

“You couldn’t have known,” you replied, placing your hand over his, “none of us could have known what would happen.”

He looked up at you, his eyes wet with unshed tears, “When I thought I lost you, I didn’t know how to go on.”

“You don’t have to anymore,” you gently replied, “We’re together now. We’ll face whatever comes next, together.”

He pulled you into his arms, and you rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. For the first time in what felt like eternity, you felt a sense of peace. The nightmares of your separation were over, and you had been given a second chance.

As the night wore on, you talked with Minho, your words a balm for your wounded souls. The two of you shared everything—what you had endured, the fears you faced, and the hope that had kept you going. Each word, each touch, strengthened the bond between you.

The sun began to disappear into the horizon of the sea tinting the sky a beautiful shade of orange, purple and pink.

That was when Minho finally spoke the words you had longed to hear. “I love you,” he said, voice raw with emotion. “I never stopped.”

“I love you too,” you replied, your heart swelling with joy. “I always have.”

You held each other close, the horrors of the past fading in the light of your reunion. You had found each other again, and together, you were ready to face whatever the future held.

[overandundertarot]

How Can You Enhance Your Beauty?

What can you do to acentuate you features and which style/aesthetic suits you best? Lets take a look!

Please pick a card; (1-4, left to right)

Pile One(Ace of Spades)

Cards; The Empress, The world, King of Cups, Ace of Pentacles.

Pile one you have that supple, vivacious feminine beauty. Think of ancient portrayals of feminine goddesses. The way women were portrayed in renaissance paintings. Fuller figured, softer around the edges. You may be a romantic in terms of kibbe body types. You may have a wide set body and thicker bones. You could be tall, and may appear larger than you actually are. That is to say, because of the rouded nature of your appearence people may expect you to be heavier than you are or weaker/lacking muscle. A good example is Marylin monroe who was actually quite petite and was said to diet often despite her voluptuous appearence. You could have big eyes and a vacant look about you, a natural poise and grace. Despite this overt feminity, you could have androginous features. That is to say, you may have a larger nose than others, a wider jaw, slighty bigger feet, some 'traditionally masculine features' bleed into your appearence. But these just add to your beauty in a subtle way. You have a welcoming, receptive energy at first glance, think of a cancer rising. You may have had issues with people underestimating you or looking down on you because of this initial soft and welcoming appearence. People may have even sexualised you in the past, placing strange expectations on you and im also hearing that some of them outright started telling you about their sexual fantasies involving your body? Pile one, you look best when you look abundant. When you look like you are well taken care of and happy with your life, determined. When you are at a place in your life where you feel fulfilled and balanced, there is a natural glow that comes over you and enhances your beauty. Jewelry also enhances your beauty, specifically jewelry that looks expensive and tasteful. You may look really good in business casual style outfits. When you combine feminine and masculine elements in your look, it really complements your features . You look really good when you give your soft features an 'edge' this can be with makeup, fashion, whatever way you want. It's good to let some of your personality shine through, to communicate that you look soft but have a backbone. You may favour more structured, masculine looks but have had poor experiences with styling these because they may not have fit the way you wanted/imagined them on your body. Find a way to work around that, incorporate things like shoulder pads, strategically loose clothing, boots etc. There're some pictures of jennifer lawrence walking dogs that went semi-viral, her outift in those pictures would suit you well. That kind of quiet luxury fashion look.

Pile Two(Ace of Hearts)

Cards; Queen of cups reversed, 3 of swords reversed, King of swords reversed, The Fool.

Pile 2 you have a melancholy sort of beauty. There is something haunting and sad about you. When people look at you, there is a depth that they can feel. Your emotions, your sadness, you wear them on your face. This is not to say that you are sad all the time, its just that it's easy for people to attach those qualities to you. People wonder what you could be thinking about when they look at you, how your life may be going and who your friends are. Sad girl aesthetic, you may like to wear muted colours, grunge/emo fashion. You could have saturnian features; strong bone structure, deep set eyes/an intense gaze. Prominent eyes. I'm seeing that some of you have undereye circles and forehead lines/crinkles. Freckles as well. Whatever you do, it seems picturesque; perfectly imperfect. If someone were to capture you in the moment, the picture would come out with a raw, dark academia feel. You have a certain vibe that transcends what you wear/look like. You can enhance your beauty by trying something new. A lot of you who chose this pile have a comfort zone that is enforced solely through force of habit. Don't be afraid to try things that pique your interest even if it may seem strange to the people around you. Some of you want to completely change your aesthetic but are worried that you will regret it and have to buy a whole new wardrobe/makeup collection etc afterwards. It seems that a lot of looks, aesthetics appeal to you but you're not sure which to focus on. Some of you used to have a more sexy/mature vibe but feel the need to cover up/dress more conservativly recently. You'd do well to slowly incorporate the new style and grow comfortable in it day to day. For others, you're perfectly fine the way you are but are feeling stagnant. Social media trends hold quite the sway on you and you are worried about how people perceive you because you don't have the newest clothes/jewelry/shoes and dress similarly each day. You may also like to thrift your clothes and have some well loved favourites that you wear constantly. It seems there's really no issue, if you feel the want to change, try it to see if the satisfaction is as great as you would have thought. Otherwise, its not really worth the hassle. It seems that you also need to change your perspective/the content you consume. Content that aligns with your interests and natural inclinations will help you feel more secure in your habits and the way you choose to present yourself. Some of you could be thinking about undegoing surgery and making a more permanent and drastic change to your features. You are being advised to think long and hard as to why you wish to do that, and if you will really be satisfied with the results. Beauty standards change, you may find that your 'flaw' will be the next beauty trend or that you never really hated the a way a certain feature looked after all.

Pile Three(Ace of Diamonds)

Cards; The Magician. Nine of wands reversed, Ace of pentacles, Three of pentacles.

Pile 3, you have the ability to present yourself however you desire. You have a very versatile look and many makeup and fashion styles suit you. Some of you are aware of this and take advantage of the fact. But others aren't and like to stay within a single fashion/makeup style. Either way it looks good on you and you are often complimented for your looks. You are quite creative too, and customise your clothes/hair makeup to fit your personality. Something about your hair stands out. It seems that your personality may come as a surprise to people who perceive only your looks as a first impression. You could also be quite spiritual/witchy and use glamours and charms to exert a specific appeal depending on your goal. You can enhance your beauty by going for an understated look. I'm seeing that you haven't really tried simplistic makeup before, or you don't wear it often. Consulting an external influence could also help you enhance your looks. Such as colour analysis, analysing your features(like the kibbe body types), or even asking a friend what they think you should do. I'm seeing that you are generally happy with where you are in terms of looks/beauty and could just be looking to spice things up/suggestions because you are an open minded and optimistic sort of person. A message for you is also to utilise beauty sevices like spas, make up studios, stylists etc. You are good at styling yourself but other factors in your life may be occupying your time/energy and taking care of yourself may start to feel like a burden. Take the opportunity to treat yourself and relax, you deserve it!

Pile Four(Ace of Flowers)

Cards; 7 of swords, Knight of cups,4 of swords reversed, 3 of swords.

Pile 4 you have a duaity about you. I'm seeing that you dress according to how you feel. You have moments where you don't want to talk to anyone and would rather stay at home. During those moments you wear athleisure, comfortable clothes and put little effort into your appearence. But when you feel more confident and extroverted you put on bold and colourful clothes to match your bright and energetic personality at the time. You could be tall/look tall, and have a preference for baggy silhouttes. Something about your lips is prominent. You could have long limbs and be slender, regardless of your weight/fitness. You are someone who's talkative, or very expressive. You have a lot of opinions, even though you may keep them to yourself. You're quite involved in your own inner world and even when you are not talking to anyone, your face is very expressive in reaction to your thoughts. You may be cheeky as well, and like to have something going on that nobody knows about. Your personality is really shining through here, despite it being a beauty reading lol. That's your appeal, you're a whirlwind and people can't help but notice you. Your looks just add to your character. You can enhace your beauty by increasing your activity level. Becoming fit, going to the gym or participating in an active hobby. It'll suit you well to have something that occupies your mind as well as your body. Also, to try a more somber look in regard to fashion and makeup, like a dark feminine siren type of makeup style/clothing. It seems that there is also something that you have been struggling to accept about yourself, this weighs on you and is cauising visible tiredness/strain. For some of you, it is a body part that you are insecure about, for others its a tendency to overthink and neglect yourself in the process. Learning to accept that part of yourself and developing healthy coping mechanisms to distract you in your times of mental strain will have you feeling and looking more confident.

******

That's it! Thank you for participating in this pick a card reading! If you would like to book a private reading with me, you can do so here. If you're interested in my other PAC's, you can check them out here!

[undead-supernova]

It's My Body and It Hates You / Masterlist

plot: memories are resurfacing. you thought that you were getting better. he wasn't haunting you now that you are with eddie. but, fuck, healing is just not that linear.

pairing: boyfriend!Eddie x afab!reader

important notes: this is about healing from previous sexual assault. this is as self-serving as it gets!!! and it can be HIGHLY TRIGGERING for other victims! but i thought maybe if someone else has gone through this before too, they could find comfort in it.

hate that I have to add this but please be respectful of my experiences. I have cowered away from posting this for months, but I think I should be allowed the right to shine a light on these issues and what intimacy looks like post-trauma.

wc: 3.4k

song reference: Everybody Loves You by Charlotte Lawrence (which has helped with my healing so so much over the last few years)

It starts the moment you wake up.

The remembering.

It’s his cerulean eyes you think about first, nearly glossed over with the glare of the morning light. The way it used to, at least. It made everything inside you soften; made everything slow down.

Back in the early days. Back when it didn’t fill you with melancholy. Back when you thought being in love meant to be in constant fear.

Way before you ever met someone like Eddie. Way before you knew that good men existed.

You look over to find Eddie gone already, having promised to help set up for a parade at the local middle school Nancy works at. He’s been teaching some of her students how to play guitar, even going so far as to buy them some cables and help update the sheet music they stashed in a closet.

Eddie’s good like that.

Generous. Observant. Selfless.

And it’s awful, but you wish he’d stayed home. Because something in you is starting to fall apart and it’s not pretty. It’s not palatable like they show on TV.

No, it’s something much more visceral.

It’s been almost four years since it started, since you fell into a not-so-serious relationship with some guy that turned into something sinister.

All of the running around and the secrets kept from your friend group that (not so surprisingly) doesn’t exist anymore. The ones who were so sure you were just obsessed with him. The ones who still talked to him after.

You were supposed to only have sex. That was it.

But, of course, what’s a little sex without his longing glances and soft embrace and sleeping over and early morning kisses? Sweet nothings, cuddles and hand holding?

But, no. He swore it to be friendship, just something casual. Even when he told you three separate times throughout your time together that he wanted something more. But it was fleeting, backtracking a day or two later to say he just wasn’t ready for a relationship. Ghosted you for two weeks, maybe a month at the most. Come back with a few sexts and suddenly you were fucking again. 

No strings, he’d say. We can’t be in a relationship.

So you stayed that way. Kept everything inside the best you could. Stood in the mirror with your lips sewn shut, tears trickling down your cheeks as if every teardrop was another regret. Smiled as much as you could, waiting for him to look away before you allowed yourself to let it falter.

And then there was the sex. That’s all anyone cared about in relationships, right? Not the person, just the body. Just the sexual object, a mere paperweight for the other to use.

The sex hurt from the beginning, his fingers never fitting right. His mouth always just a little bit too rough. But, fuck, it just always seemed to hurt. So you never truly finished, always faking it and finishing in the shower afterwards.

But you loved him. You loved the way he held you afterwards, the way his back shone in the morning light whenever he slept over. The fun little bickering back and forth whenever he was coming down from the dopamine rush. Ordering in and laughing at each other when stealing fries became a full-on wrestling match.

And at some point. 

Well. 

You stopped receiving. 

He’d try to arouse you, but ultimately it was always to please him. He was always too tired afterwards anyways. And though you wanted to stop, you just…did it anyways. You would sit there, reminding yourself that it would stop once you got him off. 

When it ends, it’ll be okay. He’ll stay. He’ll finally tell you he loves you. Just hold on. Just keep doing that and he’ll finish and then you’ll be fine. Just a few more minutes. Just do this. Just do that. 

Just, just, just… 

It’s fine.

Until it didn’t feel fine. Until he berated you one day, saying that the two of you couldn’t have sex every day and that your “friendship” was getting out of hand. That you wanted too much from him even though he was the one who initiated. 

Because, like with your emotions, you’d learned that if you attempted to initiate sex, the answer was no.

And so he yelled. And yelled. And yelled. Until you were sitting on the couch watching one of his lame TV shows and his hand ghosted over to your thigh. Stroked it. Gave you that look. Leaned in. Kissed you. Wrapped his fingers around your jaw and brought you back in unexpectedly.

This happened more times than you like to admit.

When he finally decided to commit, it lasted a month.

And, god, was it was a shitty month.

He introduced you to his mother who really didn’t care enough to ask you any questions about yourself and even made it a point to say that you and her son were very different—almost too different. When you told your friends, they weren’t happy for you. They were confused, even. He never talked about you, so how were you now suddenly dating? 

He never wanted to go on dates, never gave you anything special that he hadn’t stolen. Only called you beautiful between the sheets and told you he loved you in whispers. Even told you that telling him you miss him was manipulation, guilt tripping him into feeling bad for being gone.

So you stopped saying it. Stopped thinking about it. Started telling yourself to be grateful that he was still there.

When he dumped you that final time, on April 1st of all days, you’d laughed hysterically. It was the moment you realized that this was all he’d ever be. All he’d ever do. You saw all the patterns and the seduction and the manipulation and the fucking fucking and knew that this was a vicious cycle that would never end unless you were the one to cut the cord. 

And, well, you’d already snapped.

You thought that everything had been consensual. That you’d wanted it. Even though you didn’t, not one bit. You just wanted him to stay.

But it couldn’t have been rape. No, not at all.

But, like, you didn’t want it and you most definitely felt taken advantage of every single time and he definitely touched you whenever he wanted you to fuck him and get your arousal to distract you and the word coercion definitely sat in your mouth all funny and…

It had to be consensual. 

Right?

For two years, you thought you’d never go near romance again.

When you met Eddie, a friend of a friend, you were so confused by how gentle he was. Always having a smile for you, always telling your friend that he enjoyed your presence. He gave you little presents, like stickers and rocks from conventions and comic book stores. A few amethysts after you told him they were your favorite. Learned your coffee order and your favorite foods.

If you were hanging out, you were playing video games or board games with his friends or laughing or giggling or swapping embarrassing secrets or, or or...

His friends would leak in every now and then, filling up cups and hosting potlucks galore. Steve, Robin, and Nancy made sure to affirm your solidified place in their lives while Gareth, Grant, and Jeff made sure you were a key member in campaigns. 

And Eddie was always there at the end of those nights, washing your dishes and collecting trash just so you could catch some sleep.

It was such a stark contrast from the friend group you’d been in before.

And, fuck, you’d never felt so free.

A few months into your friendship, Eddie made it clear that he had feelings for you. Asked if you were feeling the same way and that he’d fuck off if you told him to. When you laughed and said you kind of liked him back, he asked you out on a proper date, something you hadn’t had before. 

He did that whole thing with the flowers and the tie and the car door and the restaurant door and the chair and the laughter and the nice champagne and the walking you up to your apartment. 

His arms were behind his back, keeping a safe distance. Under the dim flickering light of the hallway, his dark irises met yours. You searched them for any sign of danger.

But they were gentle. Kind. 

Warm.

And you stood there, waiting for him to kiss you or try to come in.

But he didn’t.

He’d said, “Could we do this again?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

He turned to walk back down the stairs. But you touched his shoulder. 

“Wait, you’re not going to try to come in?”

Eddie merely smiled at you, tugging at the stray hairs leaving his bun. “Oh, uh. That’s not how I want to do things.”

“Really?”

He shook his head, still smiling. “Really. Sorry to disappoint—”

“No!” you exclaimed, maybe a little too loud. “No, I just. Um, no one’s ever— Anyways, it’s not important. I’m sorry. I’d love to go on a second date.”

You sat in bed that night, trying to ward away the nightmares creeping up. Feeling locked in place, feeling scared. Felt it in your arms. Your spine. Your cracked chest.

Feeling terrified that Eddie was just lying. 

Feeling doubtful that this would ever be more than some hookup.

And yet, it became anything but that.

On your sixth date, you finally told him about your ex, trying to explain why you were the way you were. Why you flinched at any casual touch and why the idea of being intimate was scary for you. Why you’d been so hesitant with Eddie in the first place. 

You rambled on and on, from the way you couldn’t even masturbate half of the time to avoiding porn because you flashed back to those moments. The ones where everything always had to hurt. The ones where you had to make yourself into a sex doll just to be seen. Just to have worth that ultimately meant nothing.

It was like your body was stuck, like it was empty and full of cobwebs. It was just the strangest sensation, like your body knew something you didn’t.

“It’s silly, I know,” you’d said. “I don’t know why it’s all still so scary for me. It’s not even a big deal.”

Eddie whispered your name then, hesitantly reaching his fingers out to skim yours. “And you have no idea why you feel this way?” he asked, an eyebrow lifting.

Yours furrowed. Softly, you asked, “What are you trying to say?”

“I think…” Eddie took a deep breath, closing his eyes momentarily before gazing at you again. “Um, I think he raped you.”

He watched your eyes widen then.

And as the waves of grief washed through you that night, Eddie held onto you. His strong arms anchored you to the life you had now, the one you were living in spite of this horror. 

But it didn’t mean any of this made sense. What had you done to deserve this? Where was your fault?

But, fuck, how could you have even known?

And why would that be your fault anyways?

“You don’t need to see this,” you’d sobbed, shaking your head. “I-I—”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence, heaving another sob before his arms tightened around you.

“You’re not alone,” he whispered, kissing your temple. “I’m here, okay?”

“I’m here.”

You cried the first time he made you cum. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he’d cooed. “It’s okay. You’re safe with me, I promise. Let it out.”

You nodded then, taking your tired arms and wrapping them around his neck. Pulled him closer, closer than you’d been with anyone. Hugged him tight. Kept him inside you. Tried to remind yourself that he wasn’t going to walk away. He was here with you. He was present. 

​​Not too long after that, you’d been under him again, breathlessly thanking him.

Eddie had stilled inside you, leaning back to look into your glassy eyes. 

“What for?” he’d asked.

“For being so sweet to me,” you responded, sniffling. “For letting me feel good.”

“Sweetheart, I—” Eddie got choked up on the words, getting teary-eyed himself. “You never have to thank me for making sure you feel good, alright?” You nodded. “I want you to feel good. Always.”

Nodding again, you asked, “Would you…keep going? Please?”

He smiled then, wiping the sides of his eyes. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Anything you want.”

“Thank you,” you’d said, taking his hand in yours. “Thank you.”

After that, Eddie approached things a bit differently.

Even when he was fucking the shit out of you, which you didn’t even know could actually feel good, he was so gentle. Kissed your face after you came two, three times before praising you.

“You did so good, baby. So, so good.”

“So proud of you.”

“You’re so beautiful. I bet you knew that already, though. Absolutely perfect.”

It started to stitch back together something inside you that you didn’t know could be mended.

Somehow, within the last six months, you stopped being able to have sex.

It came out of nowhere—all the flashbacks and panic attacks. The moments of arousal that seem to wash away seconds after it’s felt. Hell, even the thought of masturbation has started to make you sad again.

Your body recoils from that kind of intimacy now, even Eddie’s touch being clouded with the memory of Him. And you’re working on it. You are. Sometimes you have therapy twice a week just to talk about it and undo whatever it is that’s starting to worm its way into your every day life.

Despite it all, you still try doing little things with him so that you can enjoy yourselves, like getting off while lying next to each other. It always ends in giddy laughter and gentle cuddling. Soft kisses and the promise for another round later.

But recently you can’t help but feel like you’re something that weighs him down, keeps him from experiencing true pleasure. That you’re just a tattered and torn tapestry that holds no image anymore.

By the time Eddie gets home that night, you’re on your third glass of wine, silently crying in your shared living room. It’s not the best sight, your white t-shirt gone after you’d spilled the drink while trying to sit down. You’re naked, chest stained with the scarlet liquid from shaky fingers. 

Eddie immediately throws the keys on the counter and rushes over to you. 

“Hey, what happened? What’s going on?” He gently runs his fingers through your hair. “What’s going on, sweetheart?”

You shake your head. “He’s back. In my head. I can’t get him out, Eddie. I can’t get him out.”

“Hey, come here. It’s going to be—”

He tries to wrap his arms around you, but it’s seconds before you’re pushing him away from you. You can’t feel Eddie tonight. No. You only feel Him. That monster, that unforgivable personification of hell.

“Stop! Stop!” you plead. “There’s so much pain. Just so much. I can’t keep doing this. It’s so painful.”

There’s nothing but those cobwebs inside you with little insects scurrying about. Maggots squirming in and out of your flesh. The hands, His hands that disemboweled you from the start, are still clawing at your ribcage. After all, He left you for dead, disgusting and discarded. Poisoned. Tained.

You’re suffering. 

And you don’t suffer beautifully. You’re not draped in silk sheets and clutching your pearls as your trauma washes over you in delicate, smudged mascara tears. No, your naked body shivers with the cold air and sticky spilled wine and your nails are crooked from the biting and the picking. Your eyes are sore and there’s something worse clawing at your throat.

“Baby, hey…” Eddie trails, lightly stroking your arm. “It’s okay. Just breathe for me, okay?”

“No, I’m so fucking done!” you scream, slamming your glass on the coffee table, watching as it cracks. “I can’t fucking believe this stupid thing happened to me and now I can’t do shit during sex and I’m just broken. I’m just fucking broken. And it’s all his fault!”

You choke on a sob, collapsing back onto the carpet. “It’s all his fault,” you whisper, overcome with sorrow.

“Hey, hey. Come here,” Eddie whispers, tentatively pulling you back into his arms. 

“I want this to be over with.” Your voice comes out exasperated. Exhausted. Like even the thought of having to keep going through this is about to do you in. “I just want it to be over.”

“I know.”

“It’s so gross. It’s so gross! I feel so fucking tainted and like I’m full of toxic waste. Like goo, you know? Just fucking oozing with the stuff.”

Eddie simply nods, holding you tighter to his chest. “Did you, like, get triggered? Last time, you said it was that detergent at the store.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s like I woke up being assaulted or something. It’s absolute bullshit. I thought I was done with this. I thought it was over. I thought I’d been to therapy enough that it was letting me get back to having sex and being normal.”

“Ah, come on, sweetheart,” he cooed. “There’s no such thing as being normal, especially after something like that. You know that.” You let out a huff, one of your stubborn ones that leaves a small smile on Eddie’s lips. “Besides, you’re the only one punishing yourself for not being able to have sex right now.”

Sniffling, you look up to meet his eyes. “You’re not mad at me?”

His eyebrows furrow, shaking his head as he continues to smile at you. “Why would I be mad at you, hm? I don’t want to have sex if you’re not feeling it.”

“Oh,” you say simply. “Okay. Yeah.”

Arms tightening, he states, “That’s how it should always be.”

You nod. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“And we have our things we do,” he adds, fiddling with your fingers. “You know, getting off at the same time.”

“You don’t think it’s weird?” you ask.

“Not to get, like, vulgar right now, but I think it’s hot.” That gets a laugh out of you. “I’m really into it ‘cause you’re super into it.”

“I like it,” you agree, the haze starting to dissipate from your vision. “It makes me feel safe and I just…it’s nice.”

“Then we can keep doing that until you’re ready to do anything else, alright?” 

You nod, still trying to clear the fog.

“I know what I signed up for, sweetheart,” he says, giving you a quick squeeze. “I knew it wasn’t going to be easy for you, no matter how much I wish it was.”

“I’m gonna get through this,” you say with a nod. “I know I can do this. I just need some time to figure out how to change what’s happening inside me.”

“See? That’s my girl,” he whispers, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “My strong, beautiful, brave girl.”

“How were the kids?”

It’s dark in your bed, the covers seemingly comfier than they’ve ever been. Eddie has you curled into his arms, hiding you away from the assailants and the monsters of the world. There’s no Him here. For now, you’re resting in the arms of solace. 

“Absolutely terrible,” he says, causing you to chuckle. “But I think they had fun. Nance is good at the teaching thing, bossing the kids around, you know?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Would you keep talking to me?” you ask. “I want to hear more about your day.”

Eddie trails on, stroking your hair. He tells you about the tiny parade the classes had and how the mini float they made stopped moving halfway through. Steve came just in time to see it break down and they worked together to get it back up and running again. 

He says you would’ve had fun.

Says it’s okay that you weren’t okay enough to come.

Says it’s okay that you’re struggling with this.

“You’re doing your best,” he whispers as your eyes start to get too difficult to open. “And I love you so much. I’m right here with you.”

Love doesn’t come easily after sexual assault. When there’s no one left to trust and the idea of sex is appealing but the follow through fills you with intense anxiety, the thought of a relationship is…tough. It’s easy until it’s hard and it’s hard until it’s easy. It’s like every day comes with something new, whether it be good or bad.

Eddie’s the exception that you never saw coming. And you’re so fucking glad you were able to see the day where you got to meet him. Fall in love with him. Stay with him.

And he tells you one last truth before you fall asleep.

“You aren’t broken, even if you feel like it. Just a little bent, baby. That’s all.”

shout out to @strangergraphics for her dividers...and a big thanks to her for encouraging me to share this when I was giving up.

if you are going through anything like this, know that you're not alone. it's a scary experience and people don't really talk about the way the body is just as affected by trauma as the brain is. healing is not linear and you will get through this.

stay strong.

[the-bi-library]

Happy March! Here are bisexual books out in March!

PS: I totally recommend (and kindly am asking authors or anyone else) to use the tags #bisexualbooks , #bibooks , #bisexualrep or any other variation of them when promoting (your) books with bi main character as it makes it easier for me to find books with like that since I follow those tags! 💖

Books listed:

When Worlds Collide by Erin Zak The Poisons We Drink by Bethany Baptiste Comet Cruise by Niska Morrow Never Leave, Never Lie by Thea Verdone Go Lightly by Brydie Lee-Kennedy The Phoenix Bride by Natasha Siegel Diavola by Jennifer Marie Thorn Icarus by K. Ancrum Falls From Grace (Grace Notes #1) by Ruby Landers Ellipses by Vanessa Lawrence The Fealty of Monsters (The Fealty of Monsters, Volume 1) by Ladz Song of the Huntress by Lucy Holland The Haunting of Velkwood by Gwendolyn Kiste These Bodies Between Us by Sarah Van Name The Night Compass (Wilderlore, #4) by Amanda Foody Small Gods of Calamity by Sam Kyung Yoo The Dark Feather by Anna Stephens Like Happiness by Ursula Villarreal-Moura That Secret Something by Emily Wright Heirs of Bone and Sea (Dark Depths) by Kay Adams One Last Breath by Ginny Myers Sain The Weavers of Alamaxa (The Alamaxa Duology, #2) by Hadeer Elsbai Saint, Sorrow, Sinner (The Gideon Testaments, #3) by Freydís Moon The Safe Zone by Amy Marsden Tempting Olivia (Oxford Romance #2) by Clare Ashton Crossing Bridges by Chelsey Lynford Sounds of the City by Stacey Ennis-Theobald Searching for Someday by Renee Roman Back to Us by Addison Clarke

[profoundbondfanfic]

do you have any destiel horrorfic recs?? (prefferably longfics with little to no smut but i can skip smut scenes)

also i love ur account ive found some of my favs on here/gen <33

Here are a few that came to mind (most with very skippable smut):

A Complete Kingdom by komodobits (Explicit, 85k words)

The sea; it swallows me. It comes up to my knees and it swallows me. The boys owe Jody a few dozen favours, and so when her niece goes missing near an old fishing village on the coast of Maine, Dean, Sam, and a newly human Castiel agree to take the case on. They settle into an old abandoned lighthouse-keepers' cottage, and slowly the tide comes in. (post-s8)

Between Love and Agony by Duckyboos (Explicit, 53k words)

Dean Winchester is in love. Like, bonafide heart eyes and deep sighs, hung-the-moon love. There's just one problem: the lucky guy is his husband's identical twin, Castiel. The two of them have been having a kinky affair for years, burrowing under each other’s skin and setting up camp. Which is why, after Castiel goes missing, Dean’s about ready to tear the world apart looking for him. When Castiel eventually returns to him, he’s been through literal hell, managing to drag himself out, bloody and raw, for Dean. Together, they discover a way to make Castiel whole again — though the price will be gruesome… and there will certainly be hell to pay.

empty places by dothraki_shieldmaiden (Mature, 71k words)

There’s something outside the house. Something is moving outside the house, moving inside the house. Maybe moving inside him. Something is outside the house, and it wants in. After tragedy derails his life, Castiel Novak needs to escape. He flees to Lawrence, Kansas, where he answers Dean Winchester’s ad for a roommate. There, he tries to mend the shattered pieces of his life. But as he starts to become closer with Dean, Castiel finds that escape isn’t so easy. The past doesn’t want to be left behind, and there’s something inside the house. Something hungry. And it won’t be appeased until it has him.

Every Part of the Animal by Askance (doomcountry), komodobits (Mature, 47k words)

It’s their first case after the Trials, after Heaven has collapsed: playing back-up to another team of hunters taking out some werewolves in the mountains. It's a routine job, an easy job - at least until the radio goes silent. Sam, Dean, and Cas follow after, but the caves into which the hunters have vanished wind deeper and darker than they could have expected, and something is wrong. Cas can feel it. The Winchesters may not believe what he’s hearing, but there's something down here with them—and it's not the people they came here to find, and it's not the werewolves they've been tracking. It's something else, something older, something violent, and it knows they're here.

Full Fathom Five Thy Father Lies by Ariasune (Teen and Up, 13k words)

"Look, Charlie thinks the Men of Letters have something that can help you actually, you know, find this monster.” “Good,” Dean licks at his thumb to get the last of the chicken salt clean. “Cause right now it seems like we’ve got a monster that’s some 20, 000 leagues under the sea…” He stops. “This isn’t some 20, 000 leagues shit is it?” “It’s a submarine, actually.” Fuck, that sounds like a yes.

Good Bones by emmbrancsxx0 (Mature, 39k words)

An apple pie, white picket fence American Nightmare. Dean and Cas, married and semi-retired from hunting, move into their first house together in a sleepy, secluded town. After a few run ins with the ghost that haunts the place, they must come face-to-face with the house's grisly past.

like a thief in the night by kingdumbass (Mature, 28k words)

Plagued by nightmares since the death of his mother as a small child, Dean Winchester is no stranger to grief. After the sudden death of his brother and the unexplainable disappearance of Sam’s fiancee Jessica leave Dean reeling, the former detective turns towards alcohol to cope with the loss, but when the news of another missing peron’s case all the way out in Pontiac, Illinois jogs Dean’s memory of an old unsolved case with possible connections to the mysterious note his brother left behind, he feels compelled to pick up where he left off. Though once he rolls into town, he encounters more questions than answers. Namely: what’s real and what’s delusion? And how is the creature from his nightmares tormenting the residents of this small, suburban town?

On the Cutting Room Floor by callsigntango (Mature, 23k words)

In an Arachne hunt gone wrong, Dean "wakes up" in an AU style world as what he'd gone undercover as for the hunt: a journalist. But when he shows up to cover what should be a routine story on a suspicious death in Kansas, the world around him starts to unravel in horrific, painful ways. The appearance of a man claiming to be an Angel sends Dean into a tailspin -- but just as something about Cas begins to spark very real memories in Dean, Cas seems to be losing his own grip on what's real and what isn't. And as they struggle to free themselves from this distorted web of reality, something sinister is lurking just beyond their reach.

The Elevator Game by bexgowen, xfancyfranart (Explicit, 88k words)

The game is simple. Get in an elevator, and follow the rules. If you follow them correctly, the elevator will rise and when the doors open, they will open onto a world that is not your own.

the gardener by captcas (Explicit, 17k words)

Dean loves the gardens at 918 Westview Lane. And if that has something to do with the gardener there that just so happens to be easy on the eyes? Sue ‘em. Too bad he hasn’t had the guts to actually talk to the guy. Cas doesn’t take too kindly to people who disrespect the objects of his affection but he does love gardening. AKA the one where Castiel gives us all a lesson in ultra-specialized begonia fertilizer

the inexhaustible silence of houses by Askance (doomcountry) (Teen and Up, 31k words)

Almost two years after the world doesn't end, Castiel falls from grace—and loses his voice in the process. It is the impetus for confession and change; before long, he is settling into a loving relationship with Dean, the Winchesters are tired, and hunting for a place to land has taken precedence to hunting anything else. Dean and Castiel fall in love with the strange little house on the end of Swallowtail Drive, and for a little while life is as it should be—sweet, affectionate, and beginning afresh. But more and more Castiel sees and hears things in the house that beg the question of whether or not a place itself can be alive. The walls and rooms seem to shift and grow and breathe, and one night, Dean comes home from a hunt changed in a way that Castiel cannot explain. In the months that follow, their domestic bliss takes turns for the dark and sour, and the confusion of their circumstances will ultimately test everything Castiel knows about the man he loves, and everything he believes to be true.

These Violent Delights by SomethingBlue42, xfancyfranart (Explicit, 43k words)

Dean Winchester, war vet and functioning alcoholic with a life that’s going nowhere, takes a job at Baltimore Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Dean had never heard of Dr. Castiel Novak notorious serial killer and cannibal given he’d been dodging bullets and performing field triage during Novak’s sensational trial. Seasoned orderly Rufus lays out the rules: Do not touch the glass. Do not approach the glass. You pass him nothing but soft paper - no pencils, no pens. Use the sliding food carrier only, no exceptions. If he attempts to pass you anything, do not accept it. And most importantly: don't tell him anything personal. But Dean was never much for following the rules and Castiel has a way of making Dean feel like he isn’t the grade-a loser his hot-shot FBI agent brother thinks he is. Then, a senator’s daughter goes missing, setting forth a chain of events that put Dean on a path that forces him to choose where his loyalties lie and just how far he’s willing to walk into the dark.

There's also our horror tag which you can check for more fics like these.

Additionally, there's the DeanCasHorrorFest filled with amazing destiel art and fic that might interest you.

[goingtoweather]

Happy Going to Weather Wednesday!

Beginning of Update Beginning of Comic Also on Tapas

This month's update commences with a close to Barzillai's haunting--for now--but the bargains made a decade agone have yet to be revealed. Latter part, Lawrence Manner settles into his role as ship's doctor. So ends.

If you need something to read while waiting for the next update, here's a historical context essay I wrote about medical care aboard whaleships.

As always, patreon supporters get early access to the next pages throughout the month, as I finish them. Otherwise, we'll be cutting in and trying out once more in May!

[labyrinth-runner]

Dead Girl Walking Version One

Summary: Reader bombs at a sorority rush party and decides she has to drop out... but not before she bangs her roommate, Lawrence “Beetlejuice.” 

Warnings: 18+ Only. This is like PWP. Reader has female bits. 

Pairings: Musical! Beetlejuice x Reader

Word Count: ~2500

The smoggy haze of weed got to your head. You hadn’t even been smoking, but there was just so much of it at the party that you couldn’t escape the contact high. It made you giggly. And hungry. So you drank more booze, because you vaguely remembered someone saying that when you’re hungry you’re actually thirsty so you should drink more. So it only made sense to have another shot, right? But the booze table was over by the stoners, so you ended up smelling more of the ganja and well… it was a vicious cycle to say the least. A vicious cycle that ended in you hurling on the shoes of the sorority president. You thought movies were exaggerating when something happened and the music stopped and everyone gets quiet, but then you found yourself in that exact situation.

“You’re dead. Kiss any social life you think you had goodbye,” Heather said through gritted teeth. “If you don’t drop out by Monday, you’re going to wish you’d gone to community college instead.”

She thought she was sooooo tough. But, still, the threat of your social life’s demise freshman year was essentially the same as a mafia hit. Heather might as well have threatened to have you sleep with the fishes. Isn’t it weird how the plural of fish is still fish, but people say “sleeping with the fishes”? You shook your head. Now wasn’t the time for stupid thoughts like that. You wove your way through the crowd that parted like the sea (A-haaaa sea, home for the fishes… Fish) and slunk your way out into the street.

Steam came up through the subway grates in the sidewalk as your combat boots clunked down the road. Subway steam was always gross. It was a hot smog that seeped into your pores and stung your nose. The walk home was longer than the uber to the party had been, but it helped you sober up more as you kept going.

That was when the panic began to set in.

Your social life was over. You wouldn’t be able to set foot in another sorority house—not that you absolutely had wanted to join one in the first place, but it had been part of the deal you’d made with your mom so that she’d pay for college. If you at least rushed, then she’d pay for 75% of it. If you made it into her old haunt, she’d pay for it all. Now, you’d be footing the bill of your entire degree.

Fuck.

Maybe you should just drop out. It was early enough in the semester. You could transfer back to your community college and say you were homesick. That might just work. Mom couldn’t fault you for missing her. You crashed through your front door after fumbling with the lock for a bit.

“Shit,” you muttered, hitting your hip against the table in the hall. The house was dark, but you could see the shadows from the tv in the living room dancing across the doorway. Lawrence must still be up watching god knows what on the “boob tube” as he called it. Your room was down the hall. Posters were taped at angles on the wall because you thought it looked cool. Your duffel bag was still hap-hazard in your closet from where you’d chucked it after move in day. Fabric slipped through your fingers as you grabbed whatever you could from your drawers, shoving it into the bag as fast as you could. You could practically hear your mom talk about how wrinkles form by doing what you were doing but you didn’t give a flying fuck.

“FUCK!” You heard Lawrence say from the living room.

You paused in your packing. No one was going to see you here again. You might as well have one last meal before you went. Besides…. You always had a soft spot for Lawrence “Beetlejuice”, or “Beej” or “The Juice Man” as he sometimes called himself. You wouldn’t have to live with him if it went wrong. You might as well…

Fishnets snapped against your thigh as you tugged them on. You took a look into the mirror hanging on the back of your door. Black corset, check. Lacey, cheeky underwear, check. Fishnets, check. Combat boots, check. Still, you needed something. A robe! You pulled the gag gift from your closet. It was dramatic and sexy and your best friend from high school got it for you for your 18th birthday as a joke that you could finally seduce all of those creepy old dudes that would tell you to smile while you waited for the bus. Now, a whole year later, you found yourself pulling the silk fabric up over your shoulders. You tied the bow loosely, but still had enough to play with. Good. You wanted to toy with Lawrence. Give him a show.

You slunk down the hall until you were in the doorway of the living room. Leaning against the doorway, you tried to appear as sexy as you could, swinging the excess of your tie in circles. “Having fun?”

“Yeah, babes,” Lawrence said, casting a quick glance at you before fully starting to gawk at you. “How was the—” he trailed off, watching as you slowly started to undo your robe, revealing your cleavage. He swallowed a lump as you playfully trailed your hand down your chest.

“How was the what, Beej?” You pulled up off the doorway.

“The party?”

“Awful.” You watched as his breathing sped up as you strutted over towards him. “I’m dropping out. My social life is over.” You stepped, placing your booted foot on the couch between his legs, toe dangerously close to his crotch. Placing your elbow on your bent knee, you leaned your head on your hand and smiled at him sweetly. “Do you know what I am, Beej?” Your voice was almost sing-song.

His hand tentatively slid up your calf, his eyes almost rolling back into his head at the feel of your fishnet thigh highs beneath his skin. “What’s that, Babes?”

“A dead girl walking. And do you know what I’m going to do?”

Lawrence swallowed. He shook his head.

You smirked, swinging your other leg over his leg so you could sit on his thigh. “I’ve decided I must ride you ‘til I break you.” You dragged yourself over his leg, reaching out to grab hold of his sweatshirt hoodie to yank his mouth to yours. It was a hard kiss, full of need.

It was like a switch flipped in your roommate. He started to kiss down your chest towards the neckline of your corset as he pushed your robe off your shoulders until the fabric pooled around your waist. His beard tickled against your skin in a way that felt so delicious that all you could do was sink your hands in his green-dyed hair and hold him closer. He nipped your neck, eliciting a gasp from you. His hands slid down to wrap around your ass, one hand continuing it's decent down your thigh until it hooked behind your knee. He yanked you over, fully pulling you into his lap. Only then could you feel how hard he was for you. You ground into him, hard and slow. He leaned his head back against the couch, exhaling through gritted teeth.

“Fuck,” he breathed. He eyes were wide with lust.

“Beej—”

He cut you off, kissing you hard. His tongue tangled with yours, fighting for dominance that you weren’t quick to give him. He left you feeling breathless and wanted, and something was hammering in your chest that you wished would stop because if it kept going then that would mean that you wanted this. You wanted Lawrence to fuck you because you wanted Lawrence, and not just because you wanted to fuck shit up before you dropped out. Had you been tiptoeing around these feelings the entire time? You kissed him back harder, willing it to mean nothing.

You took his hands, placing one on your ass and the other on your chest, encouraging him to squeeze and grope. Your own hands went to the band of his sweatpants, sliding your hand down into them. You moaned against his mouth as you felt his length in your hand. He was going to feel amazing.

You pushed him back, breaking the kiss to pull up his sweatshirt. “Strip, Beej.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He scrambled to pull it up over his head, along with his shirt. He looked at you weird before wrapping his arms under your thighs and lifting you.

“Beej, where are we—” He cut you off with a kiss, slamming your back into the wall in the hall.

“I’m not fucking you for the first time on the couch,” he said, pulling back. His eyes had softened slightly, and you didn’t know how to respond except with a nod. “Good.”

He kissed you again, harder, his one arm sliding up your back as your legs gripped him tightly. He stumbled backwards into your room, falling on top of you on your bed. You used your heels to push his pants down. Taking the hint, he pushed them down the rest of the way, kicking them off, standing in front of you in just his boxers. His hands reached for your corset, unhooking the front until you spilled out in all your glory and he could drop the garment onto the floor with his pants. Lawrence’s mouth was on you in seconds, sucking hot, wet kisses to your chest, leaving marks that you knew would still be there in the morning. He took your nipple in his teeth, rolling his tongue around the sensitive bud. Your back arched off the bed and towards him. You felt, more than heard him chuckle against your skin.

“You must really want me, Babes.”

You rolled the two of you over so that he was under you. “Shut up, Beej.” You sunk your hand into his underwear and gripped him, pumping agonizingly slow. “Come on, Beej. Fuck me. You know you want to.”

Somehow you needed him to make the first move, regardless of the fact that you had been the one deciding to seduce him. You needed him to take you because then you would be just another notch in his swiss cheese bedframe and you wouldn’t have to admit that you wanted to be more than just a conquest.

His hands came up your thighs, fingers splayed. His hands settled on your hips before snapping the band of your underwear. “These have to come off first.”

You swung off him long enough to shimmy out of them, laying on your side next to him. His eyes trailed your body and you felt awkward, like you should cover yourself.

“You’re beautiful, Babes,” was all he said before kissing you again. It was a different kind of kiss. It still left you breathless, but this was more passion than lust. You’d had your fair share of drunk lusty kisses. This… this was passion. This was need and want with just a touch more sprinkled in. His hand cradled the base of your neck as he pulled you back into his lap. You absentmindedly clocked the fact that he was no longer wearing his underwear either as you felt his dick brush up against your entrance. You whined against his mouth, feeling him slide himself back and forth through your slick before setting his head at your entrance. You were waiting in suspense until he slowly entered you, biting your lip as he bottomed out.

You had never felt more full in your life as he rolled you onto your back.

And then he started to move.

And Jesus Fucking Christ did he deliver. Lawrence pounded into you as if he could leave some internal mark that would permanently mark you as his. You tried your best to match his strokes, slamming your hips into his with the same velocity, but he was frenzied and you just wanted to give yourself over to the pleasure. But you also wanted to fuck him back. To make him feel just as needy as you. To help him reach his pleasure as you felt yourself ratcheting up towards your own. The familiar heat built deep in your belly as every muscle in your body began to tighten. It was imperceptible at first, but then even Lawrence was commenting on it.

“Fuck, Babes. Just like that. Fuck, I’m yours if you want me. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You’re so fucking tight,” he was babbling into your shoulder as he relentlessly rocked into you. “Milk me dry, Babes.”

You pulled him in for a kiss, forcing your tongue into his mouth. He shuddered on top of you, and began to lose his rhythm. His hand came down and hooked around your knee, pushing your leg towards your chest.

“Beej!” You cried out with the new angle. It was almost too much and not nearly enough at the same time. You felt yourself hovering towards the edge of your inner precipice, just wanting to throw yourself over and crash into the abyss, taking Lawrence down with you. His hand slipped between your bodies. His thumb pressed fast, desperate circles around your clit and you lost it, unable to hold on anymore. It was as if every muscle in your body snapped like a rubber band. The only thought in your mind was Shattered. Shattered. Shattered. As you fell into an oblivion of bliss.

“Fuck.” Lawrence collapsed on top of you, kissing you hard as he found his own release. Your arms felt like Jell-O as they came up to circle around his back, holding him close. His breathing was ragged as he flipped you over so that you were laying against his soft, sweaty, dadbod chest. You rested your head on his shoulder.

“Don’t go,” he said, drawing circles on our back with his thumb. His black fingernails titillated your skin.

“My social life is over. What else is there for me here?” you asked, tilting your head up to look up at him.

His blue eyes trailed down your face before looking away. He was blushing. “Me. Let me be your home, Babes. I’ll resurrect the dead girl and give her life.”

You kissed his cheek, hitting acceptance. “I love you, Lawrence.”

He hugged you close and kissed your forehead. “I love you too, Babes.”

[sweetrottenendings]

"Plea"

Lawrence Oleander x GN!Reader

I might make a part 2 to this idk i just luv my plant wife.

SFW, one single swear word, 899 words. You wanna go on a date with Lawrence. Maybe a little OOC? Still figuring out how i wanna portray him in my writing.

Once again MDNI i promise you this fandom isn't for you.

-

It’s been a long time since you’ve had fresh air- real fresh air, not just Lawrence opening the window a smidge after your pleading. Despite all the greenery littering his apartment (or- your home, the cage you’ll never leave.) it feels as if the oxygen has been sapped entirely. All that is left is the musk, the stench of rot and the way its salt infects your lungs. Is there a chemical mixture of salt and carbon dioxide? Probably, but it likely isn’t what you’re sucking in at the moment.

Sometimes however, it brings you comfort with the familiarity. Stockholm syndrome set in long ago, so long ago that you struggle to remember the moment it hit. You don’t think you’d have it any other way, you love Lawrence despite the revolting relationship that’s been curated in the space- you’re thinking about the air again.

The delicate sound of trickling water sounds out, Lawrence is watering the plants. He’s meticulous, as he is with everything he does. Eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed as he dictates the exact amount of water each plant requires. It’s moments like these where you get to observe him in his entirety. The way his form hunches, blonde hair that occasionally clings to his neck, bright blue eyes that used to haunt your nightmares but now soothe your dreams. If only there were a universe where you had met normally, where Lawrence wasn’t as disturbed as he is- and you could be a normal couple. One that goes on cute dates to the park, snuggles together at night when the rain gushes outside, loves each other like normal people and don’t prod at each others spinal cords-

You should stop that thought there.

A park date, you imagine that would be something he could enjoy- considering his affinity for nature. Perhaps he could even enjoy it in this universe? He loves you, he really does- in his own fucked up way. Plus you really, desperately need fresh air. You need to inhale it as hard as you can, to feel alive for once (But do you really want to feel alive?) compared to the hollow death you feel now. Lawrence would never take you out around people however, there will always be that part of him that worries you’ll run and abandon what you’ve created together. (You never will, he’s all you need.)

What about during the night? He could take you to any spot he chooses, hide you from anyone he sees- even tie you to him, surely you could make it look inconspicuous. It would be nice too, the weather during the night is pleasant and far more suited to what he’s used to. He might get angry though, he wouldn’t kill you but maybe he’d finally go through with the threat to cut off your limbs. After pondering for a moment, you decide it’s worth the risk.

Your voice cuts him out of the zone he’s found himself in- he turns sharply towards you. He isn’t as trembly as he used to be, now confident in his power over you. “Lawrence-” Your voice is soft, the way you’ve trained it to be, “I have a request…”

He stares at you, unblinking.

“This is t-the biggest thing I will ever ask of you, and I won’t be upset or surprised if you say no.” It’s not like your feelings matter anyway, but you hope it may soothe any anger. He places down the watering can with a soft sound and makes his way to you. You haven’t been tied up in a very long time, but sometimes you sit yourself in the same chair from the start- it’s almost comforting. He kneels down to your eye level with a stern stare, and nods- prompting you to continue.

“I-I want to go outside-” He inhales sharply “-with you…” He exhales. “A date, in a park maybe, during the night so there isn’t anyone around…” You give him a sweet smile, as loving as you can, “...it’d be just us, like it’s meant to be.” he continues to stare, blue eyes burning into your soul and eating whatever confidence you had left- jaws wide and unrelenting. He must be angry, surely, he’s going to cut your limbs off and tie you back up, you’ve destroyed everything!-

“Okay…” You blink.

“Okay?”

He nods “We… we can go out.” You feel your heart swell with the most joy you’ve felt in your life, it bursts at the seams like you’ve just gorged yourself at a buffet. You want to hug him- you reach your trembling arms out in hopes he understands, and he does. Taking you into his arms, soft yet oddly strong for someone like him, he wraps you into his being. A hand comes up to stroke your hair in a soothing gesture- you didn’t realise you had started crying. You nuzzle your face deep into his chest, a grateful mantra pouring from your forever scarred lips. He tilts your head up to face him- a warm smile splayed across his face, filled with nothing but love for you, only you, forever you.

His voice is the gentlest you’ve ever heard from him,

“If you try to run, I will kill you.”

You smile back,

“Good, I love you Lawrence…”

He doesn’t say it back, but he doesn’t have to. You know he loves you.

[unimo]

Random Lawrence Headcanons 🌱

He can read or watch something very obscure and graphic and not lose his appetite.

Doesn’t really even have an appetite most of the time (due to being a lil dead) and gets stoned in order to eat.

His family used to go on vacations and he’d purposely stay home so he could watch over the house. (aka enjoy some alone time and be himself)

At the end of long stressful days he probably hides underneath his blankets and silently sobs into his pillow. (gets high after to block out the pain)

Was probably nice and sociable when he was a kid, talking about his interests but got made fun of and ignored because of it. Over time he learned the hard truths of the world and shut himself out and stopped. (may or may not have been lectured by his parents for it too)

He would’ve probably enjoyed ceramics class in school, enjoying the feeling and smell of the clay between his fingers as he shapes and mends the material to form.

He was probably also pretty smart for his age when he was younger, took a liking to dinosaurs and biology type concepts. Just one of those kids that would sit in the back of the room to read or skip recess to go to the library. (gifted kid burn out)

When he goes into the woods sometimes he just cries unexpectedly, all of his bottled up emotions just start to spill out. Life gets to be too much sometimes, he has a lot of regret and frustration towards himself because of his actions. He’s comforted by the trees and flora around him when he’s done.

He has a lot of resentment for his parents, and they have resentment towards him for not trying to conform. They probably would’ve wanted him to interact with his family during reunions, but he would avoid them like the plague. He decided to stay in his room with the door locked and headphones on, not coming out till they were gone and felt comfortable enough to.

Would keep a little terrarium in his room when he was younger living with his parents, probably where his little plant obsession started.

Makes homemade hygiene and cosmetic products from his plants and stuff, outsources when he feels up for it.

He probably thrifts for his clothes sometimes or buys cheap to save money.

Has a scent kink, usually for the hair or other body smells from someone he likes can turn him on.

His moods affects the way he views intimacy sometimes. He’ll give himself a hard time after being affectionate, mad at himself for “giving in” and feeling vulnerable to someone. If he’s in a different mood, he’s frustrated that he doesn’t give MORE affection and can’t express his emotions right. He flip flops between trusting and able, to avoiding and feeling vulnerable. There’s an ironic war in his mind he fights with constantly.

Has gotten bad trips while high on different substances because of the guilt he has from killing, it haunts him and he’s aware that what he’s done was wrong. When he’s tripping by himself those pangs of guilt come back tenfold and taunt his hallucinations. He’s still addicted to the drugs so it’s hard to stop using them even after those experiences.

The type who doesn’t know he actively likes something or someone until something happens to it/them and it’s too late.

[godzilla-reads]

My Year of Gothic Reading 2024

Rules: For each month in 2024 you have to pick either a book, poem, or short story to read that carries gothic themes or aesthetic. Here's a list of suggested reading, but feel free to read something else or add others onto this list!

Books

"Rebecca" by Daphne du Maurier

"The Turn of the Screw" by Henry James

"Frankenstein" by Mary Shelley

"The Mysteries of Udolpho" by Ann Radcliffe

"The Phantom of the Opera" by Gaston Leroux

"Dracula" by Bram Stoker

"The Castle of Otranto" by Horace Walpole

"The Monk" by Matthew Lewis

"The Haunting of Hill House" by Shirley Jackson

"Jane Eyre" by Charlotte Bronte

"The Picture of Dorian Gray" by Oscar Wilde

"Carmilla" by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu

Short Stories

"The Great God Pan" by Arthur Machen

"The Tell-Tale Heart" by Edgar Allan Poe

"The Yellow Wallpaper" by Charlotte Perkins Gilman

"The Legend of Sleepy Hollow" by Washington Irving

"The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Hr. Hyde" by Robert Louis Stevenson

"The Lottery" by Shirley Jackson

"The Masque of the Red Death" by Edgar Allan Poe

"The Sandman" by E.T.A. Hoffman

"The Mark of the Beast" by Rudyard Kipling

"The Vampyre" by John William Polidori

"The Birds" by Daphne du Maurier

"The Cats of Ulthar" by H.P. Lovecraft

Poems

"The Raven" by Edgar Allan Poe

"The cold earth slept below" by Percy Bysshe Shelley

"The Lady of Shalott" by Lord Alfred Tennyson

"My own Beloved, who has lifted me" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

"What Would I Give?" by Christina Rossetti

"Time to Come" by Walt Whitman

"Love and Death" by Lord Byron

"Because I could not stop for Death" by Emily Dickinson

"La Belle Dame sans Merci" by John Keats

"The End" by D.H. Lawrence

"Hymn to the Night" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

"The Possessed" by Charles Baudelaire